The beauty of all day things
by nurzubesuch
Summary: Javert is ordered to be examined by a psychologist


**This story is pure crack. I once again stole from the one and only Torsten Sträter. He wrote the "analysis" you are about to read in this story. All credit goes to him, forever.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I don´t own any of this.**

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 **The Beauty in all day things  
**

It wasn´t unusual for Javert to show a rather drastic approach to things most of the time. Mostly for convenience and lack of time for the common curtacy, especially when it came to chasing criminals. But his record showed him firing his gun six times this week and that worried his chief of police. Especially since it was only Tuesday.

"Javert, you worry me." he said. "This sort of behavior is not correct for a police officer."

"Which one? Chasing criminals or arrest them?"

"Shooting at them." Gisquet cried, making Javert raise both brows, unimpressed.

"Well, they usually don´t react to a polite request of not running away, sir."

Gisquet changed the color of his face to a deeper reddish tone. "You know exactly what I´m talking about." he said.

"I´m afraid I disagree with your way of seeing it then, sir."

"Obviously."

"May I go then? My round starts in five minutes."

"You won´t walk any beats. Not until you have been examined and declared fit for duty by the departments psychologist."

"What?"

"He´s already waiting for you down the hall."

Javert needed a moment to adjust, before he managed a polite smile. "I´ll just have to say no thanks."

Gisquet glared. "That was not a request."

"Could you phrase it like one?"

...

Of course the psychologist was incompetent. What did this guy think he could do with him? Turn his entire head around and make him sweet and polite? After over an hour, he was still not making any sense.

"Monsieur, you´re way to uptight." he said. "You need to losen up a bit, or you´ll end up with a gastric ulcer."

Javert was sitting with his arms crossed before his chest. He was not impressed by the diagnosis.

"Got that every second month. The medicine for it is in my bag, always ready to be used. I´m prepared. Anything else?"

The psychologist looked very discouraged. "Maybe we shoud try a primary color therapy. If you …"

He looked into Javerts disapproving face and fell silent on that suggestion.

"All right." he flipped through his papers. "Then maybe …" he flipped faster. "Ah." he smiled relieved. "This is perfect for you. An exercise in awareness."

"I´m very aware." Javert argued with an eyeroll. "I´m a police officer."

"I´m talking about awareness of another kind. Awareness for the small things around you. The things you usually ignore. Things that hide a fragile beauty, maybe even messages. I want you to take a day and look around you. Not for people. Although that´s not forbidden either. But mostly it´s tiny details about the world around you, that I want you to notice. Find something that you walk by every day without a second glance and write me an analysis about it. About its beauty, its meaning, its message if there is one …"

"You´re seriouse about that."

"Yes, I am." the little man said, strongly convinced. "This is your assignment. If you want to be written fit to go on with you duty, write me this analysis. And take a picture of the object of your analysis for me too. On your cell phone is more than enough. Bring both of it for our appointment tomorrow."

Javert closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

...

"Maybe the idea isn´t even so bad." Valjean mused, earning himself a glare.

"I was counting on your support." he growled, warningly, but Valjean only smiled.

"I am supporting you."

"It doesn´t sound like support. It sounds like stabbing me in the back. This psychologist …"

"Wants an analysis." Valjean finished the sentence for him. "And what comes easier to you, than that, inspector? So analyse. Find, like he said, something you pass each day without a second glance, and analyse it, in a way that will show him, how fit forduty you are. And how unnessesary his help as a doctor is. Don´t you think you can manage that much?"

Javert was thinking.

"What choice do you have anyway? You´re off duty for today. And you will be off duty tomorrow too, if you don´t bring him this analysis."

"I realized as much."

"So what´s the big deal. Give him something, and be done with him. So you can go back to work."

Javert sighed, and nodded. "All right."

"Yeah?" Valjean seemed relieved.

"Yeah." Javert got up and Valjean followed his example.

"Can I ask you a favor?" he asked, and for some reason he seemed very excited now. Javert looked at him,waiting. "Can I read it before you show it to the doctor?"

"Why?"

Valjean could barely hide his smile. "Just … you know … because."

Javert felt his next gastric ulcer forming in his stomach. He shook his head and walked out, ready to find this goddamn little thing he passed each day without a second glance, to analyse the hell out of it.

...

At ten in the evening he was done. When he rang the bell at Valjean´s, he did not care if the old man was already asleep. He had asked for this, so he could get out of bed for it as …

Valjean opened after only ten seconds. He was wide awake.

"You did it?" he grinned just as wide, and took the paper from Javert´s hand.

"Have you been waiting up for this?"

"Of course I did." Valjean did not even try to lie. Amateur.

Javert watched him reading. After two minutes of watching, he realized with dread that he wanted to see a good reaction. Dammit.

Valjean was grinning. He was grinning widely. And he kept grinning, when he finished reading and looked at Javert.

Javert glared back. "Happy?"

"Very." Valjean handed him the paper back. "It´s actually perfect."

"Good." Javert turned around, to leave.

"Could you do me another favor?"

Javert stopped, but did not turn around.

"Could you take a picture of the doctor´s face for me, after he heard this?"

Now Javert did turn around.

...

The good doctor was ready. Javert had even done more than he had asked, and printed the picture of his object of analysis for him. On a scale of 65x 85 centimeters. He kept it covered until the doctor was ready to hear his little speech.

Javert cleared his throat. "Analysis of all day object for the purpose of getting written fit for duty."

"The purpose was to find the special in the all day things." the doctor corrected.

"Whatever."

"Please go on."

"For the purpose of finding the special in the all day things." Javert unovered the print. "The bus stop at rue St. Clare, three streets from the stacion house, on my way home."

The doctor raised his brows but waited, interested. The picture showed an old bus station, dirty and full of hand written grafitti. An interesting choice.

Javert cleared his throat again. "Now here´s my analysis. "And if you would not give me shelter, I´d be silent forevermore." These words of the street poet of the slums of St. Michelle (which I arrested a few weeks ago) are ringing through the air, when, on a warm summer evening, you stand under this roof to be safe from a soft summer rain. A station means, as we all know, leaving, fare-well, letting go. On the other hand there is always this element of hope. Hope to maybe return.

It almost seems a coincidence that the station is flanked by a blue pole to its left. Comfortingly this pole stands by the the waiting person´s side, with always currently acurate schedules. It gives information about the future to come. Obviously a feminine attribute.

The maskuline attribute is represented by a metal trash can, right of the station. It manifests an unspoken invitation, to let go of the worldly burdens.

Under the weather-worn roof the gaze meets a collection of sensitive lyrics, which seem to have reached the present days. "Julien is a real fucker."

These words leave us wondering. They let us sink into the hurt psyche of the writer, who uses a wayward grammar to not only challenge the eye of the beholder but also wants them to start thinking. Who is this mysterious Julien? And why is he a fucker?

But only a few lines beneath, we read the line: "Vanessa knows how to blow." With the following cryptic line of numbers 34987602, this gives new hope. Hope for reconciliation. A reconciliation that gives inspiration for a better future.

The art hidded behind this all day object is truly worth to be analysed, and deserves nothing but awe and respect. I wish everyone could see these wonders as I see them. The end.

Javert folded his paper, packed it away and took out his cell phone to quickly take a picture of the psychologist´s face.

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 **As always. Let me know if you laughed or if I failed miserably to translate the humor.  
**

 **And thanks for reading.**


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